


Gravitational

by Tabithian



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has this...neighbor.</p><p>He's never met the guy, but he's passed him in the halls a few times. Tall, dark, and in possession of what Tim's starting to suspect is an eternally grumpy face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravitational

Tim has this...neighbor.

He's never met the guy, but he's passed him in the halls a few times. Tall, dark, and in possession of what Tim's starting to suspect is an eternally grumpy face.

Which, fine. 

Not like Tim has to make friends with the people in his building. Most of them seem pretty happy being social outcasts who don't make eye contact or chirp greetings to one another when their paths cross.

But _this guy_.

He does this creepy stare sometimes. When Tim's fumbling his mail out of the stupidly tiny mailbox in the foyer of the their building, just standing there watching. Or when Tim's struggling to get his groceries up the death-trap stairs in their building when he does a big shop.

It's unsettling, but it's not like the guy ever does anything. 

Except.

The past few weeks he's joined some kind of band and it's utterly infuriating.

Tim keeps odd hours to start with between his part time job and school. Coming home after a grueling lab, or getting in late after he stayed to help clean up at his soul-sucking job to pass out for a few hours before he has to do it all over again shouldn't be too much to ask for. 

And _yet_.

Tim shoves his pillow over his face when using it to cover ears in a bid to block out out the sounds of his neighbor plucking out a hesitant chord on his electric guitar fails.

Over and over and over again.

And, look.

Tim gets it, that the pursuit of music is a wonderful thing and anyone who is making an effort deserves encouragement and support and the whatnot.

But.

It's roughly seven in the morning and he's gotten something in the neighborhood of six hours of sleep in the past three days. Not quite a record for him, but it's up there.

Tim's neighbor hits that note again, and for a brief, blessed moment after that it seems like he's decided to pack it in for the day - 

And then the guy starts working on a new chord.

Over and over and over again.

Tim sighs, hands dropping to his side as he gives in the utter unfairness of the universe at large.

********

“Dude. Your eye is twitching.”

Tim slowly turns his head to look at Conner.

“You don't say.”

Someone somewhere is playing their music loudly, obnoxiously and it's audible through the brick walls of the library. Thumping bass beat and vaguely familiar guitar riffs.

Conner's eyes go wide and his hands come up, slow, careful, palms up.

“Jesus, sorry, I just.” Conner stops, leans forward to peer at Tim critically. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Tim starts laughing and doesn't stop until Conner's backed up a few feet, eyeing Tim warily like he thinks Tim's finally snapped. 

Not just yet, but Conner will definitely know when he does.

********

Tim runs into his neighbor in the hall and sees a guitar bag slung over one shoulder as he talks to someone on his phone.

Tim stops, and turns around.

His neighbor looks tired, hair the kind of messy that comes from running your hands through it in frustration. He looks less grumpy and more actively irritated as he hisses something to the person he's talking to, and suddenly goes still when he realizes he's not alone.

Looks up to see Tim taking his turn with the creepy staring since Tim's brain is sluggish from lack of sleep and words don't seem willing to come into play.

“Something wrong?”

And, see.

Tim's never really given his neighbor more than a passing glance. Polite little smile or nod of the head, and gotten what seems to be his neighbor's equivalent in return, but.

“Um.”

Tim's neighbor raises an eyebrow, mildly curious expression shading towards concern at Tim's inability to string words together to form a sentence.

Because this guy, Tim's neighbor, the one who is just _so focused_ on the two chords Tim's heard him practicing over and over and over again for the past week?

 _Hot_.

Tim can feel his cheeks heating up, grateful the lighting in the building's hallways is like something out a slasher flick which means his neighbor probably won't notice. (Tim hopes, anyway.)

“You play guitar?” Tim asks, like he hasn't been muttering curses against the stupid thing all week long.

His neighbor blinks, eyes flicking to the guitar bag over his shoulder like he'd forgotten it was there. 

“What? Oh, uh. Yeah. Sort of. An old buddy suckered me into playing for this charity event when his guitarist quit the band, and he knew I used to play back in high school, so.”

Tim's neighbor rubs the back of his head, rueful little smile on his lips and just.

This is bad? 

Bad.

This is bad.

Really, really, bad.

“Oh, well. Good luck?” Tim offers, and he doesn't even know what his face must be doing for his neighbor to snort, skin around his eyes creasing with his amusement, and _ugh_. “I mean. That's. You know?”

Ugh.

Tim's neighbor laughs, and that's just making things worse. 

“Thanks.”

Tim manages something like a smile and hasty little wave and scurries to his apartment because he's just that smooth.

********

When Tim's neighbor starts practicing later than night while Tim's trying to finish his lab, Tim makes this frustrated sound as he drops his head on his kitchen table.

His neighbor's moved on to a third chord, working on that for a while before going back to the first two.

Tim closes his eyes and listens like a creepy creeper as thirty minutes into the practice session his neighbor strings the chords together in various combinations like a simple, soothing song.

Tim falls asleep to it, face down on his lab workbook with a stupid smile on his face.

********

Things get worse from there, or maybe Tim's something of a weirdo, whichever

“Oh, cool,” Bart says, pressing his ear against the living room wall up against his neighbor's apartment. “You didn't tell us your neighbor plays the guitar!”

Tim ignores the way Conner's looking at him, eyebrows climbing his forehead as Tim focuses intently on his lab workbook.

“Tim?”

“He said something about playing at a charity event?” Tim says, and, oh,he needs to transpose those equations, doesn't he.

“Tim.”

He can feel Bart's attention snapping back to him at the tone in Conner's voice, grip tightening on his pencil.

He's complained to Conner about his neighbor before, the one who plays his stupid guitar at all hours of the day and night.

Bitterly, like a tiny old man angry at the world for being what it is.

Conner's listened to him like a good friend, let him vent, and then like the worst kind of friend, mocked Tim for being a tiny old man in a tiny twenty-something's body.

Only now.

Conner's seen Tim when he 'like-likes' someone. He was there for the Steph debacle (although they get along better now when they're not dating) and the handful of relationships Tim's managed to stumble into over the years.

He knows the signs.

“Oh my God,” Conner says. “ _Tim. _”__

__“Bart.”_ _

__Conner knows the signs, but Tim has the kind of friendship with Bart that allows him to order Bart into battle for him. (Tim doesn't know either, just that it comes in handy in these kinds of situations.)_ _

__Conner throws Tim a disgusted look in the brief span of time be has before Bart launches himself at him, gangly limbs, flying hair, and Bart's ridiculous laugh taking him down in an instant._ _

__********_ _

__“Hey,” Tim says._ _

__His neighbor's on the stoop to their building, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and staring off into nothing._ _

__Any other day, and Tim might have left him to it, but today it's raining._ _

__It's been raining for a few hours now, steady and unrelenting. Cold for this time of year and his neighbor looks like he's been out in it for a while._ _

__Tim's neighbor blinks, looking up at Tim and the umbrella Tim's holding out over both of them._ _

__“You a fan?”_ _

__Tim makes a face and looks up at the umbrella in question, emblazoned with the logo for a major sports team from Metropolis instead of his usual plain black one._ _

__“One of my friends switched umbrellas on me without telling me,” Tim says wryly._ _

__His neighbor's mouth twitches up into something like a smile. “Your friend trying to get you killed?”_ _

__Sports rivalry being what it is, Tim would say yes, but Conner doesn't always think his plans out to the bitter, bitter end._ _

__“I doubt it,” Tim says. “He'd never pass chemistry.”_ _

__Okay, something of a lie because Conner's far from being stupid, but he forgets that actually doing his homework is a thing sometimes, and that studying is kind of important._ _

__Tim's neighbor laughs, sharp little bark of a laugh._ _

__Tim hesitates, because asking if something's wrong seems kind of. Unnecessary, since who even sits in the rain like this in Gotham? There's no knowing what's in it at any time, and besides that, who sits in the rain like this at all?_ _

__But._ _

__“You look like you need this more than I do,” Tim says, waggling the umbrella a little._ _

__His neighbor's eyes flick up to the umbrella and back down to Tim, eyebrows going up._ _

__“If you're trying to get me killed because I'm the asshole who plays his guitar in the middle of the night, there are less inhumane ways to do that.”_ _

__Sports rivalries get vicious, here in Gotham._ _

__Tim snorts, raising an eyebrow at his neighbor._ _

__“If I was trying to get you killed for that, you'd know,” Tim says, little hint of a smirk showing. “I'm just trying to pawn this off on someone who might have a fighting chance of winning anything it gets them into.”_ _

__And, look. Tim's only human and his neighbor is this kind of stupidly good looking that's really hard for Tim to ignore._ _

__Also, this...is probably why Tim's friends despair of his flirting technique. (As if Tim _has_ one.)_ _

__“Won't your friend mind?”_ _

__Tim looks up the umbrella, and down at his neighbor._ _

__“He started it.”_ _

__That, and Tim's fairly sure Conner got it from Clark. Leftover from some kind of promotion the _Daily Planet_ was running._ _

__Tim's neighbor's smile widens as he flicks the soggy cigarette away into the gloom when he stands up, forcing Tim to back up a little and tilt the umbrella away._ _

__“Nah, I think it's a little too late to do me any good, but thanks for the offer.”_ _

__Tim smiles back helplessly, because his neighbor's smiling down at him, soaking wet with rainwater clinging to this his ridiculously long eyelashes._ _

__“Thanks,” Tim's neighbor says softly, brushing past him as he heads inside._ _

__Tim just stands there staring after him, not really sure why he's thanking Tim._ _

__“You just going to stand out here?” Tim's neighbor calls, laughing a little when Tim starts, realizing the umbrella's still tilted away from him, rain getting in his own face._ _

__Tim makes a face and hurries to get out of the rain, shooting his stupid neighbor a half-hearted glare his neighbor just laughs at._ _

___Ugh_._ _

__********_ _

__That night, Tim's neighbor switches to an acoustic guitar._ _

__Tim listens to him playing stripped down versions of old rock classics, stupid smile on his face when the guy messes up a chord and swears._ _

__Low, indistinct through the walls, but obvious enough with the vehemence behind it as he goes back and plays that part over and over and over again until it comes out right._ _

__********_ _

__Tim's friends are completely unsympathetic when Tim comes down with a nasty cold._ _

__“You were out in the rain fail-flirting with your neighbor,” Conner says. “There is no sympathy to be found here.”_ _

__Bart nods solemnly, and Cassie just rolls her eyes, going back to her homework._ _

__“You guys suck,” Tim says, but with his stuffed up nose and voice rough from couching, it comes out garbled and unintelligible._ _

__The timing is suspicious, but Tim's been under a considerable amount of stress with the winning combination of work, school, and family. (Although really, standing out in the rain probably didn't help matters all that much.)_ _

__Conner smirks at him, and Tim just sighs, slumping down on his couch and pulling his blankets up over his face while they finish their homework and make all these passive-aggressive comments about morons too dub to come in out of the rain._ _

__Unsympathetic maybe, but they did move their study session to Tim's place, even if Conner said it was to make sure Tim wasn't going to die on them._ _

__*********_ _

__Tim's coughing keeps him up even with all the cold medicine he's somehow acquired over the last few days. Store bought and horrifying home remedies he can still smell even through his stuffed up nose, which shouldn't really be possible._ _

__He cant stand to be in his bedroom after three days of that, and camps out in his living room. (If that lets him hear his neighbor practicing that much better, it's just a coincidence.)_ _

__His neighbor must be able to hear him, pausing whenever Tim goes into one of his coughing jags Waiting until Tim's coughs taper down to these sad little wheezing _things_ before he starts playing again._ _

__It takes Tim a while before he realizes his neighbor's playing lullabies, and that's just._ _

__Tim snorts out a laugh and instantly regrets it, because _cold_ , and thumps his hand twice against the wall._ _

__There's a pause before his neighbor responds, three solid hits, and then starts back up with the lullabies, a little more aggressively this time around._ _

__********_ _

__“Jesus.”_ _

__Tim scowls at his neighbor staring at Tim like he's some kind of hideous abomination._ _

__“What.”_ _

__The poor guy winces, like he realizes what he's been doing and draws a hand down his face, muttering something Tim can't make out before looking at Tim._ _

__“Sorry, uh, but. I could hear you coughing, figured you caught a cold.” Tim's neighbor winces again because he seems just fine, doesn't he. “Um. Sorry about that.”_ _

__Tim flaps a hand at him, words being a tricky thing for him at the moment. “It's fine, I have a crappy immune system.”_ _

__He's actually feeling better, even if he looks like death warmed over._ _

__Tim's neighbor blinks, eyes narrowing as he looks at Tim._ _

__“What?”_ _

__Tim's neighbor leans in, weirdly intense._ _

__“You have a crappy immune system and you stood out in the rain talking to a dumbass who was too stupid to get out of it?”_ _

__Tim cocks his head. “Yes?”_ _

__Tim's neighbor sighs, like maybe _Tim_ is the worst. _ _

__“Christ,” he mutters, holding up a paper bag from the diner down on the corner. “I stopped by on the way home and grabbed this for you.”_ _

__Tim's neighbor fidgets, eyes cutting away from Tim. “The waitress there said it was one of your favorites.”_ _

__Tim stares, because what?_ _

__Tim takes the bag his neighbor shoves at him and stutters out a thanks, still thrown by the fact he got brought Tim his favorite soup, but his neighbor just smiles at him._ _

__“Seriously,” he says, “you need to worry about yourself a little more.”_ _

__Tim shrugs because he's heard that before, but._ _

__“You too,” he says, corner of his mouth lifting at the look he gets for that._ _

__“Idiot,” his neighbor says with a tired little smile. “Get better, okay?”_ _

__No promises, really, with Tim._ _

__********_ _

__The thing is, Tim never thought to ask his neighbor just what charity event the band he was playing in was going to perform at._ _

__“Dude. It's fate.”_ _

__Tim shoots Conner a dark look, but a familiar laugh pulls his attention back to where his neighbor is helping the rest of his band set up._ _

__Like everyone else at the event he's wearing a name tag, one of those, 'Hello, my name is...' ones stuck on the front of his shirt. (The problem is, he's too far away for Tim to read what his name is, and_ _

__“Seriously, Tim, just. I don't know, go over and say hello. Maybe not try being a creeper for once?”_ _

__Impossible._ _

__Conner snorts, this stupid smile taking over his face because they've been friends long enough for him to know what Tim's thinking. And even if that wasn't the case, they've been friends long enough for Conner to know what Tim's like._ _

__Weird, little bit creepy sometimes. Socially inept, the list goes on._ _

__“Go, fail-flirt. If things get really bad I'll call your cell and you can fake an emergency.”_ _

__Tim opens his mouth to say something, but Conner's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up._ _

__Tim goes very, very still just as his neighbor says, “Hey, I didn't expect to see you here.”_ _

__“Um.”_ _

__Conner makes this aggravated noise and takes hold of Tim's shoulders to turn him so he's facing his neighbor and gives him what he no doubt thinks is a helpful little shove towards Tim's neighbor._ _

__“Hey,” Tim says, stumbling a little to regain his footing because Conner still doesn't know his own strength sometimes. “Hi.”_ _

__Another aggravated noise from Conner who walks off to find Clark, muttering to himself about how weird native Gothamites are._ _

__“I'm guessing that was your buddy from Metropolis?” Tim's neighbor asks, little bit of a smile on his face._ _

__Tim shrugs. “That obvious?”_ _

__“The muttering about Gothamites kind of tipped me off, yeah.”_ _

__And Tim._ _

__He's an amazing idiot, because he says, “So this is the charity you got roped into playing at?”_ _

__Luckily, Tim's neighbor has just enough prior exposure to Tim and his incredible social skills that he just nods, smile ticking up a notch._ _

__“Yeah,” he says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder where the rest of his band is still setting up. “The idiot in the dumb hat talked me into it.”_ _

__Thing is, Tim's neighbor doesn't seem all that put out about being here right now, so. Probably not just a case of a friend-induced guilt trip._ _

__“Nice,” Tim says, for lack of anything else to say, and that gets his neighbor to laugh, which makes Tim smile, and really this is just so ridiculous, even for Tim._ _

__“Hey,” Tim's neighbor says, doing that thing where he rubs the back of his head that's just hopelessly endearing. “You, uh. Doing anything after this? We could get a coffee or food that doesn't come on a toothpick.”_ _

__Tim blinks._ _

__Tim's neighbor leans in, and Tim doesn't know what to do about that until he realizes his neighbor's reading his name tag._ _

__“I mean, if you're interested, Tim,” Tim's neighbor says, this odd note to his voice when he says Tim's name, something like what Tim feels when he looks at his neighbor's name tag and finally learns his name._ _

__(God, Tim really is horrible at these social graces, but at least his neighbor seems to be in the same boat.)_ _

__“I'd like that, Jason," Tim says, mouth turning up as his neighbor smiles, sweet and open and Tim is pretty gone on him, isn't he._ _

__********_ _

__Turns out, it's a mutual kind of thing._ _

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a weird week, I don't even know anymore. /o\
> 
> :D?


End file.
